Author's Note I was thinking a long while back before I even wrote the first chapter of this, that Draco is kind of an idiot. A lot of fan-fictions, really good fan-fictions no doubt, make him out to be one of the brightest in his class. Almost rivaling Hermione. Sometimes actually better than Hermione, and I know why you would make him smart, because it would add to the heated competition that melted into cooperation and love. But in the books I always found him to be a slothy guy who tried to get by on his good looks and his father's high-standing. But he was also a misunderstood guy. He wanted to do all he could to please his father whether or not it took a toll on him because all he wanted was to feel loved by his father. That's why I always felt a little good feelings toward Draco. And I just want other people to know that I really don't want to make him come off as a really smart guy, but I've read fics that have portrayed him as intelligent and I don't want to do that. (But those fics can be REALLY amazing. Just so you know.)

Also, if it wasn't obvious or anything this fic is AU. Meaning that this is seventh year and they are all at school and the events of the sixth and seventh book DIDN'T happen. Alrighty?

Disclaimer ...

Thankful that the days classes were over Hermione walked swiftly to the common room. She headed up to the girls dormitory and began to study.

Draco did the same, but not to avoid her, but in frustration that she was avoiding him. He could see why she wanted to avoid him; he in fact wanted to do the same thing, but second nature told him to be who everyone wanted him to be whether they loved or hated him.

"Hermione isn't the kind of girl to fall for me, she wants to hate me." He muttered to himself. "So I'll just have to give all those reasons to her, won't I?" His owl was perched in the windowsill to visit him as he usually did.

Draco smirked and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill.

'Hermione,

Good job at avoiding me. But don't worry mud blood, I'll track you down again. I'll make you mad at me again. It's the same, don't make it different. And don't feel bad. It's not like I took anything special from you. You gave it away, and you gave it to me. So stop pitying yourself. Show me some fire, I'll show you some ice.

The only thing that has me bothered is that I may be a little dirty now. I mean, dirty blood is mixed all over my member now, I had to take a deep clean four times now. Couldn't stand the smell.

Draco.'

His stomach was a little queasy, but he rolled the parchment up and hooked it to his owl Petrov's leg and told him to take it to Hermione's dormitory window.

The owl flew with determination and drive as soon as Draco opened the window. The letter now sent, a feeling of no-turning-back-now, he felt unfortunately accomplished and could now do his homework in peace.

After a half hours worth of completing homework a ticking sound on the window stirred her from her concentrations. A regal looking owl stood on the sill outside her window. She opened the window and took the letter from him. The owl stayed, but did not seem to care for a treat.

Unlike Harry's owl, and it was a good thing too because all her owl treats were eaten by Crookshanks.

Hermione sat on the bed and unfolded the letter. Within the first line of the letter she knew who it was from and her blood boiled. In her head she was appalled, screaming at an imaginary Draco about how absolutely unbelievable he was. 'I gave it to you? That was an agreement. It was just a way to…well it was supposed to get you back, but you want things to just be the same? I'm a mud blood and you're an ass? That's not how it is. That's not why I did this. It was supposed to be different. Not awkward, not worse, not terrifying, not the same. Different. Good different. Leave me alone different.' Feeling emotionally weakened by the end of the letter she came to the solution of writing her own derogatory letter to his pure-blooded highness.

Quill and parchment placed before her, she wrote vigorously.

'Malfoy,

I know you better than you think I do. What makes you think I was trying to make you fall for me? What makes you think that I gave it to you? I knew nothing would change. That wasn't the point.

I mean, how moronic could you be Draco? I did it to get even. To lock you up in a secret. Knowing you and how you'll torture yourself over what others will think. Something you don't realize is that even though I'm locked in the secret, I have it better.

I'll be forgiven. You Draco. You won't. The people you associate with and your own blood-family; they won't forgive you. You'll be dirty forever more. Me, well, fortunately to you I was already dirty. And the people I associate have forgiving hearts. Not that they'll be too upset. It'll be weird, and shocking even, but they'll get over it.

And if you think about it Malfoy, I could care less if you called me a mud blood. You're dirty to me too.

Hermione.'

Confidence overtook Hermione's insides and it felt really good. One day of avoidance, that's all she needed to figure it out. Hermione now had the power she wanted. She had him in the palm of her hand whether he knew it or not.

A hard grin carved into her face and she tied the letter to his owl's leg. The owl took flight and she closed her window.

With dinner coming around she headed down to the commons to meet with Harry and Ron.

Ten minutes later his owl entered the dormitory with a letter from Hermione. Draco hadn't actually anticipated her writing him back. He thought he would get rage, tears and/or silence.

Curiously he took the letter from Petrov and unrolled it. As he read his face got hot, he was embarrassed and angry. He, however, did ask for her fire, unfortunately he didn't prepare to be burned so soon.

And burned so beautifully. He crumbled the parchment and shoved it between his mattress. Goyle walked into the dormitory and eyed Malfoy warily, seeing his obvious inner frustration.

"Do you need something Goyle?" Draco asked forcefully.

"Are you coming to dinner alone or with us?" Malfoy turned and glared at him. Goyle visibly quivered because in the times Draco lost his cool he was rather violent to those who were 'close' to him.

"I'm not sure if I'll go at all Goyle." He said, turning away. "If I do go it will be alone. I may have to speak with someone."

"Who?" Draco stood and turned.

"Well if I bloody hell wanted you to know I would've said their name and not 'someone', wouldn't I have?" Goyle looked a little hurt, brushed it off, and left without a care. Also being in a Voldemort following family, it was easier to be cold and not care; whether you felt something or not.

Draco paced and put his hands on the back of his head.

She doesn't know me. Why would anyone forgive her? I can get them to think she's a slut. A know-it-all slut. They know about my sexual reputations, they know I do it to a woman a couple more times. It'd be easy to convince everyone how much she wanted me just one more time. How much glory would I get for popping the cherry of a know-it-all-good-girl-Gryffindor? More than enough glory. She better not tell anyone. He bit his lip nervously. It could potentially favor her more than me if it slips out at a moment that I am caught off guard. I have to keep my friends close and enemies closer. How do I get Granger closer so I know if she's to tell anyone? Well, not too close, I don't want her to get the wrong idea.

I'd never love her. It's her sex. Females, and females like her. I'm a teenager. Draco, reason with yourself; hormones, lust, challenges. That's what you crave. She may inspire three out of three but that doesn't equal love.

He didn't understand why he kept putting love in his head. Maybe because she mentioned it; said that having sex with him wasn't about love. In that moment he wondered what loving someone and having sex with them felt like. Did it feel different? Better? Worse?

His stomach growled and he stopped pacing to head down for something to eat, half hoping to run into Granger, half hoping to not see her until tomorrow.

Maybe even send her another letter.